


Taking Over the Beat of my Body

by rogersmorse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mockingsuit, there's one other character who says two lines but that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogersmorse/pseuds/rogersmorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I got you, Bob,” he murmurs into her skin, and then he’s biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing she’s seen in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Over the Beat of my Body

**Author's Note:**

> this is originally caitlin's HC (and she graciously let me write it <3), and when she told me about it, my mind kinda latched on and then this just happened.

The hitman kicks Bobbi’s hand and it sends her stave flying. She quickly curls her hand into a fist and punches him in the cheek. He staggers back a step and she holds her hand back out, catching the stave in midair. She flashes a grin at Lance as he advances toward the hitman before following suit.

Lance dodges a hook and manages to land a punch on the hitman's side. He leans to the side and Bobbi whacks him across the face with a stave. The hitman stumbles backward five steps before turning his head to grin at them, blood dripping from his mouth. Bobbi rolls her eyes; she always hated the smug ones. Bobbi twirls her staves once and starts walking backwards in the direction of the one unfinished wall. She lets Lance deal with getting him over to her; that was always the easy part.

She watches as he dodges more punches, rolling across the floor (he must’ve been watching her), the hitman easily falling into their trap. Once he’s close enough, Bobbi takes over, letting Lance catch his breath. 

The hitman pulls a gun out and aims it, and she drops her stave to grab his wrist and elbow him in the nose. She feels it crack and she winces internally; getting her own blood out of the suit was already hard enough, she didn’t need some goon’s worthless blood on it. She yanks on his wrist and he’s set up perfectly.

She doesn’t even need to nod at Lance; he’s been watching her for years, he knows the signals. The hitman turns around and looks at their faces, a look of confusion passing over his own. Poor guy didn’t even see it coming. Bobbi kicks her leg high, hitting him square in the chest, while Lance kicks a little lower, landing a kick to his hip. The hitman falls off the edge and Bobbi turns away. She was fine with the “getting rid of” part, but she wasn’t a big fan of the end result.

Lance is staring at her with dark eyes and it sends a shiver down her spine. His cheek is already turning purple from when he wasn’t able to fully dodge a punch, and she knows there’s a gash on her forehead and a trail of dried blood down the side of her face, but the ways he’s looking at her is making her stomach do backflips.

She drops her staves to the ground, the metallic bang echoing like a gunshot. He doesn’t even flinch at the noise, just rushes toward her and cups her jaw as he brings her lips to his in a bruising kiss.

It’s rough and desperate, his tongue sliding between her lips, and the moan she lets out vibrates in her chest. Bobbi pulls her hips into his and they stumble backwards until her back hits the concrete wall and he swallows the noise she makes. She’s itching to feel his skin against hers, but everything is covered by heavy tactical gear and she’s getting frustrated. She manages to get her hands on his neck, which will have to do, but she wants his hands on her, and more than just her neck and face.

Lance nips along her jawline in sharp little bursts of pain and she squeezes her thighs together. She needs some sort of relief and she needs it now, dammit. She pushes at his chest and he pulls back from her neck, shoulders heaving as he catches his breath.

He knows what she needs, and moves in to start on the buckles and zippers. There’s a crackle of static over the comms in their ears and Bobbi groans; _not this, not now, not ever_ , she thinks as his hands still.

“Morse, Hunter, come in. Everything okay?”

“Yes, Simmons, the target has been dealt with,” Hunter responds, his voice lower and rougher than normal, and Bobbi lets her head fall back against the wall.

“Great, pick up will be in fifteen.”

“Morse and Hunter out,” Bobbi grumbles and turns her comm off, then reaches over and does the same to Lance’s. He goes back to unbuckling her suit but she slaps his hands away.

“Bobbi, what the hell?”

“It takes five minutes to get out of this suit, and even longer to put back on if I’ve just worn it. So forget it.” She pounds her fist against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. Then suddenly, there are teeth on her neck and the throbbing between her legs is back with a vengeance.

“Hunter,” she whimpers, grasping the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and he runs the flat of his tongue down her neck.

“I got you, Bob,” he murmurs into her skin, and then he’s biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing she’s seen in a long time. He spits it out and his bare hand grips her shoulder. She can just barely feel his nails through the thick fabric of the suit, and she wants so much more.

He slants his mouth over hers as he lifts one of her legs around his waist. His bare hand travels down her body, pressing down hard enough that the suit shifts over sports bra and it’s just enough friction to make her gasp and arch her body into his. He traces over her side, squeezing her hip, before dragging his fingers in a horizontal line just below her stomach and her legs buckle for a split second. He stops halfway and moves his hand down and it’s like fucking nirvana.

Lance is slowly rubbing at her clit over the layers of her suit and her shorts beneath, and Bobbi can’t breathe. The sensation of Lance thumbing her clit and the friction from the suit rubbing against the shorts is different from anything she’s ever experienced. Her body doesn’t know how to react.

Her hips buck up on their own accord, and suddenly the angle has changed and it’s ten times better. Her moan bounces off the concrete walls, sounding completely foreign when it reaches her own ears. She moves her hips in jerky circles against his hand, and he’s moving his hand at a fast pace.

She can feel her orgasm approaching steadily when he suddenly stills her hips and moves his hand. He’s then crooking two fingers along the seam of the suit, and it rubs deliciously against her sensitive skin down there, heat pooling in her belly.

Bobbi grinds down and his fingers hit just right and she gasps his name, fisting one hand in his hair and another at the collar of his tac vest. She throws her head back, giving him the perfect opportunity to drag his lips across her pulse point and up along her jaw, all the way to her ear.

She’s gasping for breath, saying his name over and over like a prayer, and he rubs furiously, the edge drawing closer and closer with each pass over. “C’mon, Bob,” he whispers in her ear, hot breath washing over her flushed skin and she’s so close. “Let go.” He presses his thumb up _hard_ as she grinds down, and she’s gone.

Every muscle in her body goes taut as she comes and he swallows the moan that rips out of her. She’s up on her toes, back arching off her wall; the only thing supporting her is the leg around his waist with her heel digging into the small of his back.

She relaxes in his arms, resting her forehead against his shoulder, her chest heaving as she comes down. He uses the hand not between her legs to gently lift her leg off his hip and back on the floor. The noise that escapes past her lips as he slowly removes his hand makes the tips of her ears burn.

Her heart rate finally somewhat normal, Bobbi looks up at Lance, only to find him staring at his hand with a furrowed brow. She takes it in one of hers and kisses the knuckles. “What’s wrong?” He flexes and bends his fingers before meeting her gaze.

“I can’t feel my hand.” Laughter bubbles out of her mouth before she can stop it and she kisses the back of his hand once more.

“C’mon we’ve got two minutes until pick up,” she says as she slips out of his arms with shaking legs to grab her staves and his glove. Bobbi has to put his glove on because he can’t stop staring at his damn hand.

They’re walking across the field to the waiting quinjet when she remembers to turn her comm back on. She waits up for Lance, holding him still for a second to turn his on, and he’s still muttering about his hand. They walk up the ramp and she punches him in the shoulder in hopes that he’ll start acting normal again (well, as normal as he could be).

“Bobbi, I seriously can’t feel my hand,” he says, ten minutes later, when they’re sitting on the couch, her head in his lap. He wiggles his fingers back and forth in front of her face and she bursts out laughing. She’s clutching her sides as she laughs, drawing weird looks from everyone else on board the quinjet. Eventually, he shrugs and slumps against the back of the couch.

“Eh. It was totally worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> TWITTER: @bobbiimorses
> 
> I may have made a new tumblr for lancebob writing stuff bc half my irl friends follow me on my personal tumblr, and them knowing i write a lot of smut is weird so. yeah.
> 
> TUMBLR  
> personal: the-bobbiimorses.tumblr.com  
> lancebob: teacupandhellbeast.tumblr.com


End file.
